


little larusso is a cobra

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Anthony deserves more screentime, Anthony is a Cobra, Humor, M/M, Making out in a bathroom at a middle school?, anti-bullying, it's more likely than you think, lawrusso, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: When Anthony asks Johnny to teach him some karate to take care of a bully, Johnny agrees, even if it means keeping it a secret from Daniel. That is, until he finds out who the bully is.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 18
Kudos: 330





	little larusso is a cobra

Johnny was used to getting prospective new students in Cobra Kai. It took a lot of what Miguel called “HR coaching,” whatever that meant, but Johnny could now be trusted to be left alone with potential new students without Miguel glancing over from the mat with a worried pinch in his brow. 

Not that he was proud of it or anything. 

He was used to explaining to students that he was “tough but fair” even if he didn’t really think being _fair_ mattered at this point – he was even used to holding out his hand and letting students throw a first punch and then correcting their stance and bearing before asking them to punch again, marveling at the change in power from _just that one little tip._

It was all about salesmanship, Miguel explained. 

Which made him feel like goddamn Daniel LaRusso and his cars, but that was irrelevant. 

Still, no amount of HR coaching was enough to prepare him for locking eyes with Daniel LaRusso’s eyes in the form of his bratty young son, standing at the edge of the mat, his shoes still stubbornly on, even though he had to know the protocol here, and really, what harm could it cause if he threw one shrimpy kid back out the door? He caught Miguel’s eye and the subtle shake of his head. 

Okay, so tossing him out the door was apparently off the table. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Scoping out the place so your dad can _kick the competition_?” 

“What?” Anthony’s sneer twisted his whole face. “God, you’re so obsessed with my dad, get a life.” 

Okay, _now_ he was going to throw a small child out of the window instead of the door. 

“You have some balls coming into my dojo and –”

“I want to learn karate.” 

Johnny paused in the middle of his ramp-up to a rant that would surely end in Miguel’s logical interruption. He looked back down at the kid, who was staring challengingly up at him. 

“You _what_?” 

“All you old men are so deaf –”

“You little shit –”

“Dickhead.”

“Sensei, I think…Hawk needs your help with…headbutts,” Miguel said haltingly, his eyes darting around the room to find a suitable excuse. “I’ll handle this.” 

“Go headbutt him yourself, Diaz,” Johnny said, stopping the kid with his arm before Miguel could completely cut him out of the conversation. “Little LaRusso, my office. And take off your damn shoes.” 

“ _Excuse me_ , I didn’t know this place had the same rules as a trampoline.” Still, he followed after Johnny obediently enough, and that piqued his curiosity even more. He shut the door behind him and sat down behind his desk. 

The kid was still shrimpy in the bones, like his father, but he was thinner than the last time Johnny saw him, if he remembered correctly. There was a serious wrinkle in his forehead that eleven-year-olds just weren’t supposed to have yet, so he studied him more. He was probably about two months away from some kind of growth spurt, but then again, his father was Daniel LaRusso, so Johnny couldn’t rule out that he’d hover around four foot something for the rest of his life. 

How tall was LaRusso anyway? Five foot five? That didn’t sound right.

Whatever, he was small.

“You just gonna stare at me or –?”

“ _Quiet!_ ” 

The kid fell into a shocked silence, like most people did when he shouted at them the first time. 

“Why do you want to take karate?” Johnny asked.

“To kick ass.” 

“Why do you want to join _Cobra Kai_?” That was a better question, he should have started with that.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Look, I have the money to pay you myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Answer the question, little LaRusso.” 

“Dude, just call me by my first name –”

“Not a chance in hell.” 

Anthony heaved a great, exasperated sigh, reminding Johnny so much of his father he had to push the heels of his hands into the recesses of his eyes just to reset. 

“Sam told me about how Miguel was getting bullied, and that’s why you taught him karate,” Anthony said, his voice flat and emotionless when it wasn’t filled with snark. “And…” 

“Is someone bullying you?” Johnny asked. 

Anthony lifted one shoulder to shrug. “So will you teach me or not?” 

***

“Sensei, I think if you’re going to teach Anthony, you should tell Mr. LaRusso,” Miguel said, turning halfway around in Johnny’s office to survey Anthony, who was watching warm ups with bright-eyed interest. 

“Who the hell is Anthony?” 

Miguel rolled his eyes and pointed. 

“Oh, little LaRusso?” Johnny sighed. “The kid said he’s being bullied. And then he asked me not to tell his dad.” 

“Which probably means you should tell his dad,” Miguel pointed out. 

“He’s a paying customer, Diaz –”

“He’s your rival’s, er, or friend, or enemy…I really don’t know what to call him at this point.” 

Johnny snorted. “I take your point, but I seem to remember another kid asking me to teach him how to fight bullies and beg me not to tell his mom.”

Miguel pursed his lips. “And how did that go?” 

Johnny sifted through the memories with a grimace. “He made me promise, Diaz.” 

***

He decided, in the privacy of his own mind (and on a sticky-note that he left in the drawer of his desk) that he would give Anthony a month of lessons before he _accidentally_ let it slip to his father that he was a part of Cobra Kai. That would give Anthony time to possibly deal with his issues – how difficult could middle school bullies be to handle, anyway? – and it would give Johnny enough time to think of a reasonable excuse for keeping it a secret. 

Something told him _your kid asked me not to tell you_ wouldn’t fly.

Except Anthony was _good_ , once he shut up and focused. He told Johnny he had trouble focusing because of ADHD or some shit like that, and told Johnny he ought to look into it because he fit a lot of the symptoms, which Johnny decided immediately was an insult. After the twenty push-ups on his knuckles, Anthony did the same LaRusso brow wrinkle that Johnny recognized and got down to business. 

He, like his father, was better at kicking than punching. But unlike his father, he saw no reason to learn how to block or dodge attacks, instead taking Johnny’s half-assed swipes with a grunt and swinging back twice as hard in retaliation. 

“You know, you could just get out of the way of the fist, and you’d save yourself a lot of trouble,” Johnny pointed out when Anthony took the fifth open handed slap to the side of his head. 

“I’m thinking about what move to do next, asshole, I can’t think of everything at once,” Anthony snapped, hands still up in a defensive position even if they defended literally nothing. 

So Johnny spent the next three days teaching Anthony how to connect a dodge or a block with another offensive move, and the kid was excited. It was almost infectious, almost enough to make Johnny forget that Anthony was generally a huge pain in his ass. 

Except that didn’t matter too much anymore, because Johnny knew what it was like to be a huge pain in the ass all of the time. 

And it was surprisingly nice to see a LaRusso look at him with something other than contempt. 

The days wound down until the month was almost over, and Johnny had just started to write down ways to begin his awkward conversation with LaRusso when the bell jingled at the front door, and LaRusso’s voice rang out. 

“ _Johnny_?!” 

He didn’t have time to answer before LaRusso was standing at his doorway, no tie, dark pink shirt with one too many buttons undone, sleeves rolled up, eyes full of fire. Johnny swallowed thickly.

“You taught my son _karate_?” 

Shit. 

Johnny stood from where he was sitting, offering his hands like LaRusso was holding a gun on him, and shrugged his shoulders. “He asked me not to tell you.” 

“Which is _exactly_ when you should have called me!” LaRusso’s shouting voice never got easier to hear, especially when it was bouncing off the poor acoustics in the tiny office. “My son, Johnny.” 

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Johnny muttered, which he immediately recognized as a mistake. 

“You know?” LaRusso asked sarcastically. “You _know_?” 

Johnny exhaled and doubled-down in the same breath. “Yeah, okay, I know. He told me he was being bullied and he didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t even let him spar with any of the other kids, alright? He was safe.” 

And then Daniel laughed, a mirthless, angry laugh that Johnny didn’t like. 

“Bullied, huh? And you didn’t think to ask who was bullying him?” 

Johnny furrowed his brows. “Well, I don’t know many eleven-year-olds, so I figured I wouldn’t know them.” 

Daniel hid his face in his hands, pressing the fingertips so hard into his forehead they turned white. “He wasn’t talking about _other kids_ , Johnny.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“I just had to pick up my son from school, because he got suspended for sweeping his _civics teacher’s_ leg,” Daniel explained. “Now, naturally, I wondered where he got that move from.” 

Johnny could tell that Daniel was building steam to a whole new version of the riot act that he’d heard some form of before. He interrupted him. “Wait, little LaRusso was being bullied…by a teacher?” 

Daniel’s hostile posture softened for a moment. 

“He told me that Mr. Ambrose hates him because he doesn’t stay focused in class but he knows the answers to the questions,” he explained, hands open and wide and tense at his sides, like they wanted to be weapons and facilitators of diplomacy and didn’t know how to choose. “So he calls Anthony to the front of the class and makes him answer questions in front of everyone and tries to humiliate him or something.” 

“What a piece of shit,” Johnny spat. “He’s just a _kid_.” 

Daniel’s shoulders loosened, like he was setting free the tension there, and he sighed. “Yeah, he is.” 

Johnny stared at him, a whirlwind calmed down to nothing. “So…what are we gonna do about it?” 

***

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Daniel said from behind the wheel, as if he wasn’t driving them, of his own volition, back to the middle school, Johnny a taut livewire in the passenger seat, fuming at the idea of a teacher who bullied a child. 

Hell, Daniel wasn’t exactly a passive parent, but even he was less angry than Johnny was. 

“He picked on your _kid_ ,” Johnny retorted. “The LaRusso I remember would’ve kicked his ass by now.” 

Daniel scoffed. “You have a biased memory of me,” he pointed out. 

“Hmm, hot-headed, jumped up little Jersey shit,” Johnny listed. “Nope, sounds about right.” 

“He’s a teacher, Johnny,” Daniel let the insults slide by unmarked. “I can’t just go in and beat him up. That’s assault. Battery. Assault and battery or something.” 

“Battery? This isn’t Circuit City, LaRusso,” Johnny huffed. “That guy deserves to get his ass kicked.” At Daniel’s warning look, Johnny deflated. “He at least deserves to get bitched at.” 

“Sure, fine,” Daniel relented. “I’ll bitch at him.” He glanced over at Johnny, who had momentarily relaxed and was looking out the window. “I find it hard to believe you’re this pissed about something that happened to my son.” 

“Little LaRusso is alright, you know,” Johnny said blithely. 

“Do you call him that every time?” 

Johnny shrugged. “Yeah. That’s his name in the dojo.” Sometimes I call him _shithead_ , but –,”

“Johnny –”

“Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say,” Johnny smoothly interrupted. “But he’s a good kid, and he’s a good fighter. I’m surprised you didn’t train him yourself.” 

Daniel blinked and turned away under the guise of checking the other lane before he merged. “He didn’t want to learn from me.” 

“Well, he picked up the basics at least,” Johnny said amiably. 

Daniel allowed himself a momentary proud smile that he didn’t really feel like he earned.

“Why are you this pissed off about a shitty teacher?” Daniel asked. “Considering you flipped Demetri on his ass on his first day –”

“Ahh he deserved it,” Johnny dismissed. “It’s different when a grown-up talks shit to a teenager, you know? Most of the time, they’ve got enough snark and ego to bitch back at you. But Little LaRusso is eleven. He’s a kid. Why is a grown man picking on a little kid? He doesn’t even have hair on his balls yet –”

“Johnny –”

“It’s shitty to pick on a kid who can’t pick back,” Johnny finished, but he had his hands balled tight into a fist and was looking out the window again, and Daniel realized that the statement had far more to do with Johnny than with Anthony. 

And then he remembered standing at the gate of his adolescent apartment with Johnny Lawrence, who remarked almost absently that his step-father was the guy with money, that he was a real piece of work. 

“John –”

But they were pulling into the parking lot, and Johnny took one look at the expression on Daniel’s face before he vaulted out of the passenger seat, hand scrabbling at the seat belt, and was beelining it for the front door, and if Daniel didn’t hurry up, Mr. Ambrose was going to get his ass kicked whether he liked it or not. 

He caught up to Johnny at the office desk, where he was asking for Mr. Ambrose.

“Are you…a parent?” the woman asked, her eyes slipping over to Daniel. “Oh, Mr. LaRusso.”

“We just wanted to have a discussion with Mr. Ambrose,” Daniel said smoothly, putting a hand on the small of Johnny’s back to get him to shut up or else. “Just to better understand the incident that happened today.” 

“Of course,” she said professionally. “He should still be in his classroom. First floor, hallway on your left. Room 219.”

“Great, thank you, Lizzie,” Daniel said, flashing her a smile before yanking Johnny away by the tail of his shirt. “Keep it together, Terminator, let me do the talking.” 

Mr. Ambrose’s classroom was plastered in posters that Daniel remembered from Meet The Teacher night. _“If you need help, ask!” “The best way to learn history is to listen.” “A healthy mind is one that reads.”_ So on and so forth. Statements that didn’t mean much of anything. 

Mr. Ambrose himself was a pallid man with an ill-fitting yellow shirt, no tie, a button missing near the bottom. His forehead had a great blue bruise coming in, obviously where he hit his head on the floor when Anthony swept his leg. Daniel had to bite his lip and look away to keep from laughing. 

Johnny had no compunction. He snorted, loudly, as he took in Mr. Ambrose’s appearance, and walked over to the chalkboard and leaned against it, clearly giving Daniel the opportunity to take care of the problem himself. Except it wasn’t that easy when he felt like he had a hitman standing behind him, waiting for the trigger word. 

“Mr. LaRusso,” Ambrose said flatly. “I believe I told the principal everything –”

“Right, you did,” Daniel replied. “I just wanted to talk to you about some of the things my son has told me goes on in your classroom.” 

“I’m sure we can reschedule –”

“Don’t think so, Chubs,” Johnny snapped from the chalkboard. Daniel whirled around and glared at him, jaw clenched. Johnny held up his hands like he just couldn’t help himself. 

“What did you call me?” 

“Mr. Ambrose,” Daniel snapped, turning the man’s attention back to him. “My son says that you treat him poorly in class, you put him in front of his classmates and force him to answer questions he couldn’t possibly know so you can make fun of him –”

“Forgive me, Mr. LaRusso, but your son is a pain in the ass.” 

Daniel stopped in the middle of his sentence, mouth open. 

“He’s _what_?” Johnny asked. 

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Ambrose repeated, undaunted. “He’s never taking notes, he always has a comment to make, and I can’t get him to do the worksheets to save my life –”

“And yet, his grades are high,” Daniel pointed out. “His highest, in fact, out of all subjects.” 

“I haven’t ruled out cheating,” Ambrose said, glancing down at this desk. “Now, today, your son was asked to answer a question that he could not cheat his way out of. And when he realized that he couldn’t answer it, he stood up, and he…”

“Kicked your ass?” Johnny supplied helpfully. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Ambrose finally asked. 

“It doesn’t matter who he is,” Daniel said. “I’m trying to understand why my son would resort to violence. He is not a violent kid, so naturally, I have to conclude that someone provoked him.” 

“He better get used to provocation,” Ambrose said blandly. “That’s all adulthood is.” 

“He has time to learn,” Daniel sneered. “He’s eleven.” 

“Mr. LaRusso,” Ambrose said, walking around to stand in front of his desk. “Your son committed a violent act today with no provocation.” Johnny, from his post, scoffed. “He has been a poor student in this class, regardless of what numerical grades might say, and at this point, I have to wonder if it’s time to blame the parents.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Where do you think your son got his boundless entitlement?” Ambrose asked. “If it has to fall to me to knock him down a few pegs, then I will.” 

Johnny caught Daniel around the collar of his shirt to keep him from taking a step forward. Mr. Ambrose watched the movement smugly. He pulled Daniel back a step and stepped in front of him. 

“What did you say to the kid before he kicked your ass?” Johnny asked. 

Mr. Ambrose furrowed his brows. “I don’t –”

“Answer the question, Chubs. What did you say to him before he kicked your ass?” Johnny repeated, taking another step closer. Ambrose scrambled backward, knocking his hip into the desk. “Clearly you said something.” 

“I asked him a question –”

“No, no, I don’t think you did,” Johnny said thoughtfully. “I think you made a shitty comment, since that’s all you’ve done since we got here. And I think he took it personally. Probably because you intended it that way. So what was it?” 

“It was about the Civil War –”

“I don’t give a shit about the question, I want to know what your shitty comment was,” Johnny said, and if he took another step, they’d be touching, and Mr. Ambrose seemed to realize that at the same time Johnny did, because he got a firm grip on the desk and puffed his chest out, as if that would help. 

“Johnny –”

“LaRusso, what did Little LaRusso tell you he said?” Johnny asked, barely turning his chin toward Daniel.

“With all of Daddy’s money, he still can’t buy you a clue,” Daniel said. 

Johnny turned his gaze back to Ambrose. “That’s not something a teacher should be saying to a child, I think we can both agree. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ambrose?” 

“I –”

“Uh uh, careful, Mr. Ambrose, you see, we’re standing so close, and I’ve been told I have ADHD, which I think means that my limbs can just start moving without warning.” 

“That’s not what it is,” Daniel chimed in from behind him. 

“Well, I guess we’ll never be sure,” Johnny said, lifting his fist so Mr. Ambrose could see it, halfway to a punch already. “My daddy had money and didn’t buy me a clue either.” 

“You – you can’t –”

“If an eleven-year-old can, so can I,” Johnny pointed out. “You see, if I hear that you say a single inappropriate thing to that kid again, I will come back here without _him_ ,” he jerked his thumb back toward Daniel, “and I will make you best friends with the tile floor. That bruise on your forehead will be a pleasant memory.” 

He patted Mr. Ambrose on the cheek, hard enough that the man winced, a thin sheen of stress sweat shining on his skin. 

“My probation officer will look the other way,” he said blithely. “Do we have an understanding?” 

Mr. Ambrose’s eyes had gotten so large Johnny was reminded of those stress dolls whose eyes pop clean out of their skull when you squeeze them. He nodded frantically, his face going pale, and let out a held breath when Johnny moved away. 

“If you’re gonna be a teacher, maybe don’t be a piece of shit to kids,” Johnny said firmly. “If you can’t handle them, get a new fucking job.” 

And then he was gone, out the door and down the hallway, and Daniel was left standing with his mouth open in the middle of the classroom, Mr. Ambrose looking like he was going to pass out. He gave Mr. Ambrose a snide smile and jogged out of the room, glancing left and right to find Johnny. 

He'd like to think he’d seen pretty much every dimension of Johnny Lawrence at this point. The ups, the downs, the painful moral grey in the middle. But Johnny Lawrence, superhero for a son who wasn’t even his? He’d never seen that before. And it was…exhilarating.

“Johnny, _wait_!” 

Johnny stopped near a row of lockers, a few steps away from the boy’s restroom. “Look, I know you wanted to do the talking, but I just – I hate that guy –”

Without thinking, Daniel shoved Johnny into the boy’s bathroom, pulling him back against the closing door, and pulled him down by his neck into a bruising kiss. Johnny let it happen, hands coming up to the door to make sure Daniel didn’t slam himself into it. After a moment, he moved them to take hold of Daniel’s waist and slid around his back. He grinned, and the smile gave Daniel the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. Johnny groaned against his mouth, hips pinning Daniel in place against the door.

“You’re really going to get your kid kicked out of this school,” Johnny said when he pulled away, the words a breathless gasp. “All because you like it when I’m mean.” 

“Shut up,” Daniel said, yanking him back down for another kiss. “I wish you’d hit him,” he said into Johnny’s mouth. 

Johnny laughed, the breath ghosting over Daniel’s face. “If I knew this was my reward, I would have,” he said. He kissed Daniel again, one leg between both of Daniels, knee braced on the wall to make sure no well-meaning janitor could open the bathroom door. 

The squeak of a janitor’s station startled them apart, breathing heavily, Daniel’s hair sticking up in the back. Johnny wordlessly flattened it and straightened his shirt before he gave Daniel the nod to open the door again. 

“Come on,” Johnny said quietly, taking Daniel’s hand. “We can continue this off school property.”


End file.
